


a glimpse of a god (all shining and bright)

by XenomorphLiebe



Series: 30 Day Imperials Challenge [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Thrawn - Timothy Zahn
Genre: 30 Day Imperials Challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 08:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13853787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XenomorphLiebe/pseuds/XenomorphLiebe
Summary: Written for the 30 Day Imperials Challenge on Tumblr. For various reasons, I'm going to do 15 ships in 30 days instead of the full 22. Days 1 and 2 were Thrader. Excerpt:"Eli shot Thrawn a pointed look. "Now, who exactly are you tryin' to se-duce?" He drawled the last word.Thrawn stared Eli dead in the eye."Darth Vader."





	a glimpse of a god (all shining and bright)

It was the night of the Imperial Gala, which was an annual celebration of the Emperor and his tireless service to the Galactic Empire. All the Imperial elite would be in attendance—the Emperor, of course; Grand Moff Tarkin; even Darth Vader was rumoured to be attending. Attendance at the Gala could make or break an officer's career, and invitations were a privilege dispensed upon only the Empire’s most promising officers.

Eli Vanto sighed. Of course, he had to be the plus one of the one man in the entire galaxy who couldn't have cared less about receiving an invitation to the Imperial Gala.

"What's takin' so long?" Eli yelled at the fresher door. "We'll have missed dinner and dessert by the time you're done!"

The door flung open. In the entrance stood Eli's superior officer, friend, and occasional pain in the rear: Mitth'raw'nuruodo, who was better known by his core name, Thrawn. The Chiss wore the formal uniform of his rank, which was almost identical to the standard-issue uniform. However, instead of the drab green-grey of his regular Admiral's dress, Thrawn's double-breasted jacket was a distinguished navy blue, which contrasted with the bright white of his pressed trousers. In addition, the Chiss wore golden epaulettes with an intricate braid motif on his shoulders.

"Patience, Eli," Thrawn chided, "We have plenty of time."

He checked the chrono. "See, the doors don't close for another 15 minutes. Now, tell me, which uniform looks better: the navy-with-white or the midnight blue-with-cream?"

Thrawn gestured to his outfit.

Eli groaned. "They are the exact same!"

Thrawn silently arched his eyebrow.

"You look great!" an exasperated Eli reassured his friend. "Let's go!"

Thrawn sighed. "Very well, just one more thing—"

"No!" Eli shouted. He pushed Thrawn out into the hallway and slammed the door the behind them. "We're goin' now!"

 

At the Gala entrance, Thrawn strolled past Eli, who was hunched over and panting. He presented his invitation to one of the guards.

"I am Admiral Thrawn, and this," he gestured to Eli, who stood up with a sheepish grin, "is my aide, Eli Vanto. He will be my plus one for the evening."

"You're lucky," the guard said, "The doors were just about to close."

"See, Eli," Thrawn whispered as the pair strode past the guards, "Plenty of time."

Eli took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

Eventually, he asked, "So, who's the lucky gal?"

Smirking, Thrawn inclined his head with a questioning look.

Eli tried again. "Lucky gent?"

"Why are you so certain that I will seduce someone?" Thrawn asked with a grin. "Perhaps I merely take pride in my appearance."

"Right," Eli said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "You spent the last two hours in the fresher fussing over your outfit like my cousin Sal before the Homecoming dance on account of your vanity."

Eli shot Thrawn a pointed look.

"Now, who exactly are you tryin' to se-duce?" He asked, drawling the last word.

Thrawn stared Eli dead in the eye.

"Darth Vader."

Eli chuckled, "Okay, seriously, who?"

With a parting smirk, Thrawn sauntered off into the crowd. Elistopped laughing.

"Wait, Thrawn!" He hissed after the other man. "You’re jokin', right? Thrawn?! Thrawn!"

* * *

 Vader glared at his fellow Gala attendees. Of course, no one could see his irritation behind the mask of his breathing apparatus, but Vader still took pleasure in imagining the terror the other guests would express if they knew of his ire. Vader sighed. Events such as the Imperial Gala were so tedious. Why did the Emperor insist on his attendance? Vader served one purpose now, and it was not socialising with arrogant governors and obnoxious senators.

"Lord Vader!"

Vader glared at the fool who dared to approach him. Finally, the called appeared. Vader was surprised that he hadn't seen him earlier. The man in question stood out from the crowd like a snowstorm in the desert. After all, he was the sole attendee with blue skin and glowing red eyes.

Vader sighed in relief. At least it wasn't Krennic..., he thought.

"Admiral Thrawn," Vader greeted the Chiss with a stiff nod.

"Lord Vader," Thrawn purred.

"I know why you’re here."

Vader watched as Thrawn's smug demeanour transformed into shock.

"You do?"

"Yes. I am certain that there is some enemy that you would like to sic me against, or perhaps some favour that I can ask the Emperor on your behalf. In short, you want a favour." Vader paused. "Whatever it may be, do not ask. The answer is no."

Rather than pout as Vader expected, Thrawn smirked as he listened to Vader's proclamation.

"Oh no," he murmured, "I assure you, I do not desire such favours."

"What do you desire, then?" Vader growled.

Thrawn shrugged. "Conversation, companionship..." He arched an inquiring brow, "Perhaps a dance?"

Vader stiffened. "You are mocking me."

He attempted to stride away, but Thrawn laid a restraining hand on his arm. Vader snarled, but his rage dissipated when he saw Thrawn's soft, imploring eyes. Thrawn removed his hand from Vader’s person, and Vader, to his own annoyance, felt somewhat ashamed of his reaction.

"My deepest apologies for any offense that I have caused," Thrawn assuaged the other man.

Then, the Chiss turned and cursed under his breath, muttering to himself, "How could I have made such an immense miscalculation? Perhaps there is some aspect of human courtship rituals that I misunderstood. I must ask Eli for further explanation later..."

"Courtship rituals," Vader repeated blankly.

"Hmm?" Thrawn glanced up at him. "Again, my most sincere apologies for the embarrassment that my actions have caused. If you will please excuse me—"

"No," Vader growled as he restrained Thrawn, holding his bicep in a vice-like grip.

"Excuse me?" Thrawn inquired with an insincere smile.

"No. I will not allow you to leave," Vader declared.

He considered his next words, silently cursing. Much time had passed since he had engaged in a romantic liaison with another person—Vader halted that train of thought. It would do him no good to think of her now.

He finally asked, "Would you like to get some air?"

Kriffing hells, he sounded like a fool!

Despite Vader's awkardness, however, Vader’s invitation brought a smile to Thrawn's face and his red eyes burned brighter than the twin suns of Tatooine. Vader's face grew hot. He reminded himself to inform the Emperor's technicians that his suit's cooling units were malfunctioning, but all that was forgotten as soon as Thrawn spoke.

"I would be delighted to accompany you outdoors." He gestured to a nearby exit. "The balcony, perhaps?"

Vader inclined his head. He waited for Thrawn to leave, but the other man remained still, his arm still in—

"Kriff!" Vader released Thrawn's arm as though burned.

Thrawn's lips quirked upward. He murmured his thanks, then turned and artfully made his way along the fringes of the crowd. A moment passed before Vader followed, the guests parting in front of him as though preternaturally ordained.

* * *

Above the Imperial Palace, the clear skies were void of any speck of light. Coruscant, that is, Imperial Center, gave off too much light for even the brightest star to be seen at night. Sometimes, Vader gazed into the darkness of the sky and imagined that the darkness gazed back into him. Vader's meditation on the darkness was interrupted by Thrawn.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"Most would describe it as frightening," Vader refuted, his voice deadpan.

Thrawn hummed noncommittally. "Are you, perchance, familiar with the work of the artist Att Hardtrein?"

Vader grimaced. "I know little about art." 

By which I mean nothing, he added silently.

"That's alright," Thrawn reassured him with a soft smile, "Most don't."

"Anyways," he continued, "during the last years of his life, Hardtrein painted nothing except black, square canvasses."

Vader surreptitiously rolled his eyes behind his mask.

"Artists," he scoffed to himself.

Unaware of Vader's distraction, Thrawn enthused, "—challenge the viewer's understanding of art. By painting a perfect, matte void, Hardtrein ensures that his work resists all interpretation. Further, he—"

Unhearing, Vader watched Thrawn swing his hands wildly through the air as he lectured. The corners of Vader's lips twitched upward. All too soon, however, familiar voices slithered, jeering, into Vader's thoughts. How could someone as intelligent and as passionate as Admiral Thrawn be attracted to someone as fettered and as broken as Vader? Thrawn was attractive too; his alien colouring only added to his appeal. Vader had no illusions about his own appearance—his obsidian mask was more handsome than the pallid face it covered.

 _And didn't Thrawn mention someone named Eli, earlier?_ A voice whispered in his ear, its cadence uncannily familiar to Palpatine's—although not the cold, demanding tone he now used as Emperor, but rather the soft, paternal tone he had used years ago as Chancellor.

"—thus, the all-consuming void represents art in its purest form, transcending the crude matter of material reality and, some would argue, even the luminescent ether of the life-force."

Thrawn gazed, wide-eyed, at Vader. He panted quietly, the warm dampness of his breath crystallising in the frigid night air.

"Why?" Vader demanded.

Thrawn blinked.

"Why?" He echoed. "Because..." He flung his arms up. "Art!"

Vader growled. "No. Why—" He sought to capture the right words, but they slipped through his grasp like grains of sand.

"I am the perfect weapon," he at last intoned. "I have slaughtered thousands for the sake of peace and order, for the sake of the Emperor. However—" Vader's breath caught.

"—what sort of _fool_ ," he sneered, "would ever think to love a weapon?"

"I see no weapon," Thrawn responded, "Only a work of art. A masterpiece, even grander than Hardtrein's."

Dampness collected in Vader’s eyes.

The dehumidifier must be broken, he thought. Kriffing Force to the nine hells, why couldn't anything in his kriffing suit ever stay fixed?! Wetness slid down his cheeks as he tried to regulate his breathing. If he started to hyperventilate (though he had no reason to), then the suit would pace his breathing for him, the process of which was agonizing, to say the least.

Thrawn stood, unflinching, as Vader raised a gloved hand to the other's man cheek. In fact, he relaxed into Vader's touch when the other man rested the unfeeling prosthetic against his blue skin.

What would it be like, Vader wondered, to actually touch the other man, skin-to-skin? Locked away as he was in his armour, it seemed as though innumerable years had passed since Vader had truly touched another living being.

"Tell me more about the art," he instructed. He did not move his hand.

Thrawn smiled. "Of course," he consented with a nod. "Many artists have sought to capture the essence of the abyss—that eternal, all-consuming nothingness—in their work, but only a few have truly succeeded—"

Vader listened, enraptured by the other man's passion. It was not much, but it was something. Like a flash of lightning on a moonless night, it was a whispered promise of something more powerful than even the pain and the anger of the dark—something almost like hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Kate Bush's song "Suspended in Gaffa."
> 
> The formal Admiral uniform is based on the U.S. Marine's formal dress. Link to picture [here](https://media.defense.gov/2014/May/19/2000796560/-1/-1/0/140519-M-CE001-001.JPG).
> 
> I don't know if Star Wars has Homecoming, but as far as I'm concerned, it does now.
> 
> Att Hardtrein is an obvious reference to the abstract artist Ad Reinhardt. Read more about his work [here](https://www.moma.org/collection/works/78976?artist_id=4856&locale=en&sov_referrer=artist).
> 
> I'm also on Tumblr at the same name. Link [here](http://xenomorphliebe.tumblr.com/). I mainly blog about the Alien films and Star Wars (especially the Imperials <3), so, you've been warned ;)


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